


Cat and Mouse

by braezenkitty



Category: Supernatural
Genre: 1940s, Alley Blow Jobs, Alternate Universe - 1940s, Anal Fingering, Blow Jobs, Detective Dean, Dubious Consent, Dubiously Consensual Blow Jobs, Enemies to Lovers, First Time Blow Jobs, M/M, Mobster Castiel, Public Blow Jobs, Public Sex, Russian Mafia, there's just the one, wow that makes it seem like there are a lot more blow jobs than there are in this fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-14
Updated: 2017-11-14
Packaged: 2019-01-22 00:00:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,073
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12468928
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/braezenkitty/pseuds/braezenkitty
Summary: Detective Dean Winchester has been chasing Russian mafia boss Castiel Krushnic for most of his career, but can never quite keep him locked up.





	Cat and Mouse

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to [formidablepassion](http://formidablepassion.tumblr.com) and [treefrogie84](http://treefrogie84.tumblr.com) for their invaluable alpha/brainstorming assistance and [dr-dean](http://dr-dean.tumblr.com) and [bltrendafilov](http://bltrendafilov.tumblr.com) for beta reading. This fic wouldn't be what it is without you all!
> 
> And special thanks to my amazing artist, [cas-watches-over-you](http://cas-watches-over-you.tumblr.com)! I've embedded the art in the fic, but you should still go check out the [art masterpost](https://buffy312.livejournal.com/1048.html) and show some love there, because the art is gorgeous and without it, this fic wouldn't exist.

“You can’t do anything about it, Dean,” Sam says, almost spilling scotch over the rim of his glass as he flings his arms out in frustration. “The witness won’t talk and the evidence you have is circumstantial at best. No judge will hold him. I’m surprised you even got a warrant. You gotta let him walk.”

“Like hell I do,” Dean says, throwing back the last of his own scotch and setting his glass down on his desk with a thunk. “I’ve been trying to catch this guy for years, and now I finally got him behind bars and I’m supposed to just let him walk?”

“Yes!”

“He’s a goddamn monster, Sam! He kills people!”

“You have no concrete evidence that he does,” Sam says with a sigh, his voice gone soft. He rubs at his forehead and runs fingers through his unfashionably long hair before glancing back up at Dean. “Look, I want to see this guy behind bars just as bad as you do, but it’s just not gonna happen until you have something solid.” He sits on the edge of Dean’s desk and set his glass down, looking at Dean with his best damn puppy dog eyes. “I just worry you’re obsessed with this guy, Dean.”

“I’m not obsessed, Sam,” Dean says, though he can’t stop the image of blue eyes, a sharp, stubbled jaw, and rumpled dark hair from flashing through his mind. He grabs the bottle of scotch and pours himself another measure, then sips at it. “This guy has been playing cat and mouse with me for years. I’m just tired of having him under my paw only for him to wriggle away.”

“I know, and when you have solid evidence on him I’ll gladly convince a judge and jury to throw the book at him,” Sam says, finishing his scotch and setting his glass down. “But until then, there’s nothing you or I can do.” He stands and grabs his coat off the coat rack, pulling it on over his suit jacket. “I gotta get home, Eileen’s probably got dinner waiting by now.”

“Yeah, alright,” Dean says, his anger deflating as he leans back in his chair. “Give her my love.”

“Will do,” Sam says walking to the door. He stops there, hand on the door jamb, and throws Dean a worried look. “Go home and get some rest soon, okay?”

Dean just snorts and sips his scotch. Sam sighs and walks out the door, closing it behind him.

Outside, thunder rolls somewhere off in the distance, though it hasn’t started raining yet. Dean turns in his chair and looks out his window at the darkened sky. After a moment, he tosses back the last of his scotch and puts the lid back on the bottle, storing it and the glasses in his desk drawer. He stands and grabs his jacket off the back of his chair, folding it over his arm. The air is muggy with the beginnings of a storm, and he’s too heated to wear it anyway. He makes his way through the almost empty precinct building, waving at Detectives Fitzgerald and Henricksen on his way out the door.

Stepping out into the humid night, he inhales deeply. The scent of rain is definitely on the air and he starts towards home, jacket slung over his shoulder.

“Detective,” a deep, accented voice says from behind Dean, sending a shiver down his spine. Thunder rumbles in the distance and the first drops of rain hit Dean’s skin. “Lovely evening for a walk, yes?”

Dean’s vision goes red as he turns towards the voice and sees none other than Castiel Krushnic, leader of the Russian mafia and the man Dean’s been trying to throw behind bars for the majority of his career. He stops walking and stares him down, gritting his teeth. “It  _was_ a lovely evening.”

“Oh, come now, no need for being rude,” Krushnic says, a glint in his eyes and a smirk on his lips.

Dean’s latest attempt to see Krushnic locked up had failed miserably, though he had thought he had plenty of evidence despite Sam’s protestations. The Russian mafia just had too many officials in their pockets. Nothing ever stuck to Krushnic. And now he was walking free a day after being arrested. Dean wasn’t all that surprised. It had happened this way several times already, but that didn’t mean he wanted to be confronted with his failure so soon and by the man himself, no less.

“Listen here, you Russian asshole,” Dean says between clenched teeth. Thunder rolls somewhere in the distance and the rain starts in earnest, fat drops splashing down on them. “We both know you have no business walking the streets tonight and I have no reason to be pleasant about it.”

“Aww,” Krushnic says with the hint of a smile on his lips, “feeling, how you say… frustrated?”

Dean’s vision blurs and next thing he knows, he’s got Krushnic pushed up against the brick wall of the alley they’d been standing in front of, a hand fisted in the lapel of his jacket and gun shoved under his chin. His own jacket lay forgotten on the dirty alley floor. “You’re damn right I’m frustrated,” Dean says, clicking the gun’s safety off. “I think it’s about time you confessed.”

“Now why would I do that?” Krushnic chuckles, the sound rumbling through Dean’s fingers.

“Because if you don’t, my trigger finger might just twitch and put a bullet in that pretty little head of yours.”

A slow smile spreads across Krushnic’s face and Dean shoves the barrel of his gun harder into the soft flesh under his chin. Krushnic tilts his head back slightly, but doesn’t stop smiling. “You think I am pretty?” His tongue flicks out to catch a drop of rain that glides over his lip, and then he sucks in his bottom lip, releasing it in a slow slide between his teeth. “I think you are pretty too.” His eyes flick down to Dean’s mouth and Dean licks his lips unconsciously.

“Shut up,” Dean says, his voice faltering slightly. Krushnic’s bright blue eyes are staring him down, making him feel powerless even though he’s the one with the gun. “I should just shoot you now and be done with all of this. Nobody would even question a bad guy like you dying in some dirty alley with a bullet in his brain.”

“Maybe,” Krushnic says with a shrug, “but you won’t shoot me. You are too good.”

“You don’t know anything about me.”

“Ah, there you are wrong.” Krushnic’s crooked grin widens. “Just like you watch me, I watch you. Know your enemy, I believe is the saying. You work as cop because you care about the people. You take care of your father even though he drink too much and hit you. You give all your extra money to help your little brother become lawyer. I know you.”

“Don’t you dare talk about my family,” Dean growls, shoving Krushnic into the wall.

“We are not so different,” Krushnic says, still smiling.

“We’re nothing alike.”

“Everything I do, I do for my family; my brothers and their children. I want to make this city safe for them, same as you.”

“Right, and killing people is the way to do that?” Dean says with a dry laugh.

“Sometimes, yes.” Krushnic drops his eyes to the gun in Dean’s hand. “And I think you agree, yes?”

“Shut up, asshole,” Dean says, shoving the gun harder under his chin. “If the next words out of your mouth aren’t a confession, I’ll leave you to bleed out in this alley, I promise you that.”

“Alright, alright,” Krushnic says, bringing his hands up as if in surrender, “I confess. I kill people who need to be killed, just like you do.” He stares into Dean’s eyes as if he could see his very soul. “And you know this. And this is why you will not shoot me.”

“That’s not true,” Dean says, though there’s no conviction behind the words. Krushnic has never killed an innocent that he knows of, he can’t deny that. All his kills have been rival gang members or people on his own staff who didn’t follow the rules.

“Detective,” Krushnic says, wrapping long fingers around Dean’s wrist. “Dean. I know my life will probably end with a bullet in my head, but it won’t be by your hand.” Gentle pressure urges Dean’s hand down, but Dean holds fast.

“If we’re so much alike, what makes you think I won’t put a bullet in your head, huh?”

“You know I’m not really one of the bad guys. And besides, you don’t want to see me dead, you want to see me leashed,” Krushnic says, corner of his mouth lifting in a grin. His fingers slide down from Dean’s wrist to rest on his forearm and Dean fights off a shiver. There was a new heat behind Krushnic’s eyes that set off a flutter in Dean’s gut. “You want me on  _your_ leash.”

Dean snorted.

“I see the way you look at me when you put the handcuffs on yesterday,” Krushnic says and bites his lip again. His voice has somehow dropped even lower, the gravelly tone shooting straight to Dean’s groin. Despite his aversion to the owner of that voice, Dean’s cock starts to swell. “You like it a little too much, yes? Maybe I like too.”

“I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about,” Dean says, though it comes out a little more breathless than he intended. Krushnic’s blue eyes are locked on him, heavy lidded and dark with what Dean’s starting to realize is desire. Dean’s cock twitches with interest when Krushnic chuckles darkly.

“You know what I’m talking about,” Krushnic says, and Dean feels fingers brush against his hip. He should jerk away, put some space between them, but he doesn’t. Krushnic’s hand slides against him, fingers digging into his waist and pulling him closer.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing, Krushnic?”

“Castiel.”

“What?”

“My name. I’d prefer you to call me Castiel,” he says, thumb brushing back and forth across his waistband.

“Fuck you,  _Krushnic_.”

Another dark chuckle rumbles out of Krushnic’s chest and he smiles, squeezing Dean’s hip. His fingers burn like a brand through the thin fabric of Dean’s slacks. Their hips are flush now, and Dean realizes with a groan that Krushnic is hard. His cock swells even further and heat flares across his cheeks as he unconsciously lowers his gun.

“You look so pretty when you blush,” Krushnic says, swiping his tongue out to wet his lips. Dean can’t help but track the movement. Krushnic leans forward, his breath caressing Dean’s lips. Dean looks back up into Krushnic’s eyes and time seems to freeze. Then Krushnic’s lips are on his, pressing gently but insistently, his tongue seeking entrance. Dean groans and opens to him without thinking, and then they’re kissing, hot and wet and messy. Dean loses himself for a moment, then pushes back enough to glare at Krushnic. He shoves the gun back under his chin.

“What the fuck was that?”

“I believe it is called a kiss?” Krushnic says, smirk planted firmly on his face.

“No, I mean, why the fuck would you do that?”

“Because I’ve been wanting to,” Krushnic says with a shrug. His fingers slip from Dean’s forearm and trail down his torso to land on his belt buckle. “And there’s something else I’ve been wanting to do to you.”

Krushnic holds his gaze as he fumbles with Dean’s belt buckle and undoes his pants. Dean should stop this, should push Krushnic away, but all the blood left his brain a while ago and he can’t think with Krushnic’s hand slipping inside his briefs and wrapping around his dick. Dean’s mouth falls open on a moan as long fingers grip him and slide up his length.

“Fuck,” Dean mumbles, his eyes fighting to slip shut. Krushnic’s hand on him feels better than it has any right to. He strokes up and down, swiping a thumb over the tip and spreading precum to smooth the way. Then his mouth finds Dean’s and they’re kissing again, drops of rain slicking their lips.

Dean lets the gun slip away from Krushnic’s chin and rests his hand on his shoulder, bringing his other hand up to wrap around the back of Krushnic’s neck. He pushes him harder into the alley wall, thrusting his cock into Krushnic’s tight fist. Krushnic’s mouth is hot on his and he tastes faintly of vodka. Dean pants against his lips, biting down on the bottom one and drawing a groan out of him.

“I’ve been wanting you, Dean,” Krushnic says, moving to press a line of open mouthed kisses along Dean’s jaw. His stubble drags across Dean’s skin as he tongues at the sensitive spot below Dean’s ear. Dean can’t stop the moan that escapes his lips and he thrusts forward into Krushnic’s hand. “Every time you look at me the fire behind your eyes draws me in.”

“That’s just me angry that you’re not behind bars,” Dean mumbles breathily.

Krushnic huffs a laugh and drags his teeth over Dean’s earlobe as he slides his palm over the head of Dean’s dick. The combined sensations make Dean’s knees weak and he braces a hand against the brick wall to hold himself steady.

“Maybe so,” Krushnic says, pulling back with a grin and pinning Dean beneath his gaze, “but either way it drives me crazy.” He leans back in and captures Dean’s lips, kissing him soundly. His tongue explores Dean’s mouth while his hand works Dean’s cock almost tortuously slow. Dean thrusts against him, chasing his orgasm.

When Krushnic pulls away and removes his hand from Dean’s pants, Dean can’t stop the whining moan that pours out of his mouth. Krushnic just laughs, and then he’s dropping to his knees and pulling the front of Dean’s pants open wider. Dean freezes as Krushnic’s tongue flicks out to lick the precum from his tip.

“Oh god,” Dean moans, leaning his forearms against the brick and watching as Krushnic teases at his slit. “Krushnic—”

“Castiel,” he says, pulling back and looking up at Dean with an eyebrow raised, “or I stop.”

“Fuck you, Cas,” Dean says, deliberately shortening the name.

“I suppose that will do.” Castiel leans forward and slides his mouth over Dean’s cock, taking him in a couple of inches. Dean gasps at the sudden warm and wet feeling enveloping him and drops his free hand to tangle in Castiel’s hair. Castiel begins bobbing up and down his length, working his base with a loose fist. Dean rocks forward gently, and bites his lip to keep from moaning.

Castiel works his tongue along the underside of Dean’s dick as he moves up and down. It feels so good Dean doesn’t notice when Castiel’s free hand slips under his balls until a finger is rubbing at his hole. The sudden unexpected sensation sends a wave of pleasure through his body and he jerks his hips forward, shoving into Castiel’s throat. Cas chokes a little and pulls back, slipping off Dean’s cock and working him with his hand as he catches his breath. He gazes up at Dean, a grin planted on his face. Dean fights back the urge to drop to his knees and kiss that smile off his face.

The finger at his hole makes slow circles as Castiel leans back in and swallows Dean down. Dean barely avoids the urge to thrust forward and fuck into Castiel’s throat. Castiel hums around him, sending vibrations through his cock and a shiver up his spine. Dean can’t hold back the groan as words start spilling from his mouth. “Feels so good, baby, fuck yes.”

Castiel switches from circling his hole to pushing inside as he takes Dean’s cock even deeper. A jolt of pleasure hits Dean and he thrusts forward into Cas’ mouth and just as quickly backward onto his finger. He’s never had a finger in his ass before, except his own, and fuck, it feels amazing. Seconds later, his orgasm hits him and he’s shooting come down Castiel’s throat. Castiel chokes but then swallows, the flexing of his throat muscles squeezing the head of Dean’s cock and sending another wave of pleasure through him.

“Fuck, Cas,” Dean says, his eyes squeezed shut and head thrown back, breathing heavily.

Castiel hums as he works Dean through his orgasm, sending vibrations through his cock that seem to ripple through his entire body. When Dean’s just on the verge of becoming too sensitive, Castiel pulls off and licks him clean. Dean twitches as Castiel’s warm tongue runs over his tip. Castiel stands then, kissing Dean as he tucks him back into his pants and zips him up. Dean can taste himself on Castiel’s tongue and he groans, leaning forward to deepen the kiss.

Once Castiel has Dean’s belt buckled, he pulls away, grinning. “I think this could be the start of a beautiful relationship.”

Dean just stares, dumbfounded. He can’t quite believe he just got sucked off in an alleyway by Castiel Krushnic. The man he’s been chasing for years.

“Be seeing you, Detective,” Castiel says, winking before brushing past Dean and walking back towards the entrance of the alley.

“What the hell,” Dean mumbles to himself as he practically collapses against the alley wall, powerless to do anything but watch Castiel go.

In the days that follow, Dean finds he can’t stop himself from reading through the Krushnic case file over and over, looking for any reason to pay him a visit. He tells himself it’s because Krushnic is one of the bad guys and he needs to be put away.

It has nothing at all to do with the way his stubble felt sliding across Dean’s cheeks, or the way his blue eyes had twinkled as he looked up at Dean while he was on his knees. It has absolutely nothing to do with the fact that Dean can’t stop thinking about what Castiel would taste like, or what his cock would feel like in Dean’s hand.

No, Dean just wants to keep his streets safe. He just wants Krushnic taken out of the equation. Once he’s behind bars, Dean will never have to think of him or their brief interlude in the alley ever again.

He almost believes himself.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much for reading. Comments and kudos keep me going, so please leave one below or come yell at me on [tumblr](http://braezenkitty.tumblr.com) <3


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